


Señor Tickle

by Webhoard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Cussing, F/M, Tickling, brooklyn nine nine - Freeform, i promise this is not dumb yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webhoard/pseuds/Webhoard
Summary: Sam Wilson has a huge crush on you, but can’t seem to flirt or talk or even function around you. To make matters worse, he actually takes some advice from Bucky. This is based on a scene from Brooklyn Nine Nine (S1E11), but I’d like to hope that my version of Sam is endearing in a different way than Hitchcock is…a very, very different way.





	Señor Tickle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following anon request on Tumblr: “Me shoving money at you: please do write sam wilson content I’ll love you forever” and “Give us any kinda sam fluff pleeeaase! I’d especially love to see something where sam has a crush on reader and he likes her so much it throws him off his game”

Sam Wilson was never a particularly flighty or superstitious man. He was ex-military: pragmatic, grounded, and logical. He had also always fancied himself as a bit of smooth talker. It didn’t matter how beautiful the woman, he never hesitated to engage in a bit of light flirting. That’s not to say that he was a player; he just liked making women laugh and smile, and it was something he was very good at. He exuded self-assurance. This was how Sam saw himself. This was how his friends and teammates saw him as well. He was a suave man, and a handsome one at that.

That is, until he met you.

* * *

You were an ex-CIA agent who had been drafted into the Avengers on a probationary basis because of your extensive knowledge and experience with illegal arms smuggling. Your résumé was impressive to say the least. You spoke several languages, and you had been involved in both domestic and foreign missions in the Middle East and Northern Africa. You had most recently led a major RICO bust of a crime syndicate out of Baton Rouge, the mission that had put you on Tony Stark’s radar to begin with.

Sam would, regrettably, never forget the first time he met you when Tony introduced you to the team after you moved in. When he first saw you, his mouth went dry, and his palms began to sweat. And yet, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to try laying on some of his signature charm as he walked over to you and Tony to introduce himself, confident in his as yet unwavering flirting skills. 

You gave him a tight lipped smile as you shook his hand. Meet and greets weren’t exactly your favorite activity, but you would at least attempt a smile for this particularly handsome Avenger.

“You must be Sam Wilson. I remember doing some work regarding your early missions with the Exo-7 Falcon. Perhaps you remember,” you stated flatly, trying your damnedest to sound as interested as you really were, but failing miserably.

Sam tried to flash one of his signature smiles in return, that one that could melt even the coldest of hearts, but his smile faltered as he tried to summon a reply. Not only could he not think of something smooth to say, he also could not think of, well, anything to say. So there he was still awkwardly shaking your hand with his clammy one, with half a smile, nodding at you mutely.

You slowly pulled your hand from his, looking at him with wide eyes and knitted brows. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he managed to blurt out before turning on his heel and walking out of the conference room, leaving you feeling a bit stunned and more than a little confused. Sam, meanwhile, was mentally berating himself as he made his way back to his quarters to recharge and self-reflect. He had completely frozen. Why? It wasn’t from a fear of rejection. He had been rejected by women plenty of times, and it always rolled off him like nothing. It definitely wasn’t that. Certainly not. He would just excuse his weird behavior the next time he saw you, and make some excuse for his abrupt departure like a headache or stomach flu or…

You, on the other hand remembered the initial meeting a little differently. You had seen military photos of Sam Wilson when you had been on a mission in Afghanistan some years earlier. There had been a risk of the Falcon tech being copied by Khalid Khandil and his associates, and the mission, well, had not ended on a positive note. You couldn’t help but notice that the pictures hadn’t done him justice, not by a long shot. You were not the sort to be easily taken in by attractive men, nor were you a very touchy-feely or emotional woman, yet here you were with stomach butterflies and warm cheeks as you regarded him at the conference table.

When you had shaken his hand, you attempted to engage with him on a professional level, but he had merely stared at you before practically running out of the room. Against your better judgement, you felt a bit slighted and frustrated at his obvious and immediate aversion for you. Not only had he not wanted to even speak to you, but, in your mind, he had made it clear that he could not be bothered to even be civil. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he might somehow associate you with the fuck-ups of the military commanders and the problematic intelligence that had led him into the fire-fight that had taken his wingman’s life. You did your best to shake off these self-doubts, _I am not going to let this get to me. If he doesn’t want to be friendly, then fine. Fuck him…NO, not like that…arghh!!_

* * *

That initial meeting had set the tenor for what would become your working relationship with Sam: you did your best to ignore him, feeling that his supposed animosity might hinder your probationary position on the Avengers’ team, while he did his best to fix his cock-up of a first impression. Neither of you were proving to be very successful at these endeavors.

You had gone from an unflinching CIA agent who had stared death in the face on more than one occasion to an unflinching CIA agent who had stared death in the face but also couldn’t get that handsome bastard of your mind. And Sam had gone from a man who could confidently talk to anyone to a man who could confidently talk to anyone _save you_.

In your mind, you still felt guarded around him, acutely, albeit wrongly, aware of his dislike for you, which had translated into a strange combination of attraction and frustration toward him. And if Sam were being honest with himself, he felt a bit like Will Smith in the movie, _Hitch_. Nothing he did to flirt with you or talk to you seemed to go the way he wanted. At best, he often looked like an awkward ass: at worst, an inconsiderate one. And so he turned to his frenemy slash best bud, Bucky, for advice.

“I don’t know what my problem is, man. I’ve always been good at this sort of thing, but with her…” Sam trailed off, staring into his water glass with a dejected sigh as he leaned back into the couch cushions. Natasha, who was in the kitchen making sandwich, gave Bucky a knowing look as he listened to Sam.

“Look, Y/N and I actually get on alright, so I know what I’m talking about. What you need to do is just make her smile.” Bucky sighed out, tired of listening to Sam’s plaintive thoughts about you. “Trust me, she’s kind of a hard ass, but if you can actually pull a genuine smile out of her, or better yet, a good laugh, she’ll warm up to you in no time.” 

Sam scoffed skeptically, “And how exactly am I supposed to do that when I can’t even seem to speak in complete sentences around her?”

Bucky suddenly had an idea as he consoled his friend with a devious smile, “That’s just it, Sam. Don’t try to speak.” Sam looked at Bucky with questioning expression. “Maybe try something crazy, like, you could tickle her or something. That’d make her laugh.”

“What? Oh c’mon, man, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—”

“No no no, hear me out.” Stifling his smile as best as he could, Bucky continued, “Y/N is not a very emotional woman; she’s much more physical. So you’re better off trying to connect with her on that level. Trust me; she and I are friends.”

“Ok, but there are a million other ways I could connect with her than through tickling. That honestly sounds like a super sketchy thing to do to woman.”

“Like I said: trust me. We get into tickle fights all the time.” Bucky couldn’t help the chuckle that managed to escape, causing Sam’s eyes to narrow slightly. Playing it off, Bucky continued, “Sorry, just remembering our last tickle fight.”

Sam still wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t deny Bucky’s explanations and experiences either. He also couldn’t deny that all of his own tactics had failed miserably. 

Bucky, however, knew that you in no uncertain terms hated being tickled. But he also knew that a minor confrontation might get you and Sam actually speaking, the lack thereof being the only thing keeping you two apart. And whether or not it worked, at least he’d get a good laugh from it all.

“Alright. I’m trusting you, man.” Sam still looked dubious, but his attention was soon diverted to you as you walked into the kitchen with Steve and Clint, discussing the details of an upcoming mission. Clint and Steve went over to the dining table to confer with Natasha while you remained in the kitchen to perk some coffee.

Bucky shook Sam out his trance, whispering to him, “Ok, Bird Boy, now’s as good a chance as any. Go for it!”

“Alright, here goes nothin’.” Sam swallowed back the imaginary lump in his throat as he walked into the kitchen toward you. Looking back, Sam still can’t be quite sure what possessed him to act as he did, but there’s no point obsessing over what’s already been done.

Bucky, never letting go of a chance to fuck with Sam, ran to the others at the dining table, directing their attention to what was sure to be quite a show.

As you were measuring out the coffee grounds, you felt someone approaching you from behind, but paid them no heed. 

“Hey, Y/N, making coffee?” You rolled your eyes slightly at Sam’s voice. “Can you make another cup for Señor Tickle” he practically sang out as he shook his index finger before then wiggling all ten fingers at you, “and his nueve amigos?” 

“tickletickletickle,” he called in a high voice as he then began to tickle your sides from behind you, taking you completely by surprise. 

Acting on instinct, you yelled out, “What the hell, Wilson?!” as you quickly reached down and grabbed his right index finger, twisting him around until he was kneeling on the floor crying out in pain.

“Ow ow ow,” Sam screamed, “I think you sprained Señor Tickle.” 

Still holding him down by his finger, you growled at him, “Next time I break it off.” Noticing that his finger actually did look a little swollen and that he was openly whimpering in pain, you let him go before stalking to your quarters, doing your best to ignore the chuckles from your teammates and to avoid looking at Bucky’s face, which was bright red from holding in his laughter.

Getting up from his prone position, Sam stomped over to Bucky, who was now openly laughing, “Way to go, man! That was great fucking advice! Now she’s definitely not gonna talk to me!” Looking down at his swelling finger with a grimace, he added, “I think she broke my damn finger.” And with that he retreated away from his embarrassment to go get a splint from the medical staff. 

In your room, you were going over and over the events of that morning. Why the hell would Sam, the man who was quite often awkward and borderline rude, that is when he wasn’t ignoring you, decide to suddenly tickle you? Then you thought of Bucky’s red, smiling face. You had once mentioned to Bucky how much you hated being tickled, and as far as you could tell he was the only one who knew this fact about you. The only probable explanation was that Bucky had somehow put him up to it. With a huff, you left your room to go find Bucky.

You found him unsuccessfully trying to read in the lounge area. He was too busy chuckling into his hand to get much reading done. 

“Bucky, spill it. Did you put Wilson up to that?” You cocked a brow at Bucky as a fresh wave of giggles overcame him. While you were glad to see the normally taciturn and melancholic super soldier enjoying a good laugh, you were not exactly in the mood to humor him.

“Ok, ok. I told him to tickle you, yes. But I do _not_ know where the hell he came up with Señor Tickle,” he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he tried to catch his breath.

Your expression unflinching, you continued, “Why did you put him up to it?”

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N, isn’t it obvious?” 

“Isn’t what obvious?” You had no idea what he was on about.

“Well it’s obvious to literally every other person in the tower. Shit, I think even the night janitors might know.”

“Bucky…” you said in a warning tone.

“Look, I don’t want to get involved. Just go talk to Sam.” He was now regarding you with a thoughtful expression, before adding with a smug grin, “Besides, I think you really hurt Señor Tickle.”

Rolling your eyes at Bucky, you got up to make your way to Sam’s quarters. You couldn’t help the butterflies that made their presence known at Bucky’s cryptic words. What was he on about? What was so obvious to everyone but you? Could Bucky have been implying that Sam might— _la la la la, no no no._ You would not let yourself even complete that thought. There was no way... You were so lost in these thoughts that you hadn’t even realized you were already at Sam’s door. You took a deep breath before knocking. You had no idea what you were going to say to him.

“What do you want?” Sam barked through the door, opening it with a huff. When he saw you standing on the other side of the doorway, his frown slipped slightly. “Oh, Y/N. I thought you were Bucky…”

“Um, nope, not Bucky.” You both stood there in an awkward silence, not knowing how to proceed, before you both attempted to speak simultaneously. 

“I’m sorry for tickling you. I shouldn’t—”  
“Sorry about your finger. I didn’t mean—”

You both chuckled nervously before Sam cut in, “I’ll go first. I shouldn’t have tickled you like that. I should have known better, but Bucky…well, never mind. I’m just really sorry, Y/N. That was dumb and actually kind of creepy.”

“It’s okay. I figured he’d put you up to it, and then I got him to admit it,” you said softly, not really knowing how your voice should sound. “Is your finger okay?” You gestured to his bandaged finger. 

He waved off your concern, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just bruised the joint.”

You grimaced slightly, before letting out a small laugh, a smile taking over your face as you realized how funny this whole situation was. “I’m sorry. I just reacted on instinct.”

Sam couldn’t keep himself from matching your smile, nor could he keep his heart from skipping a beat when your beaming eyes looked into his. Had he just made you smile _and_ laugh?

“How long do you need to wear the splint?” You asked, smiling up at him.

“Oh this? I don’t even need to wear this. My finger’ll be fine in no time.” He waved his injured finger in front of you. “I actually had to beg the nurse to give me a splint just so I could make Bucky feel bad.”

Shaking your head, you laughed softly again, “Well he certainly deserves it.”

“Yeah he does.” Sam smiled, starting to feel less anxious around you. It was then that you noticed how close he was to you as he leant against the doorframe

“Hey, Y/N, I know you and I haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, or feet rather, but I’d just like to apologize for my awkward contributions to this mess,” he gestured between you both. “I don’t know why, but I kind of forget how to talk around you. But I keep trying, and keep digging myself deeper into this awkward hole.”

Of all the ways you had envisioned this apology going, this was not it, and you felt a slight flutter in your chest. “You seem to be doing okay right now.”

“Yeah? Well please don’t jinx me,” he snickered out. 

“To be honest, I’ve thought you maybe didn’t like me.” You admitted, looking down at his chest.

“What? No, I’m just an idiot,” he seemed to almost be pleading with you. “I guess I can see why you might have thought that though.”

“It’s just that I was involved with the intelligence on the Khalid Khandil mission, and I thought that maybe you might have justifiably blamed me or at least associated me with how that mess turned out.”

Sam looked as stunned as he felt. He also could help the pang of guilt that ran through him. Had you really spent the last few months imagining that he might blame you for Riley’s death? He took a breath before very softly saying, “I have never blamed anyone but the bastards who shot Riley down. Anyone.” He lowered his face to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry you thought I was blaming you.”

You waved off his concern. “I should have asked you about this sooner. I just hate…awkward conversations,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah, well. It’s kind of hard for me to understand that reasoning,” Sam replied, your eyes shooting up to his in surprise. There was a slight twinkle in his eyes. “I mean, I’m just so good at keeping my cool and not being awkward, especially when talking to gorgeous woman, as you can tell.” The gleam in his eyes turned to one of alarm as he seemed to only just realize what he’d said aloud.

Your stomach gave a fluttering flip at his words, and your whole body seemed to be vibrating with nerves and anticipation. Since you had moved to the tower, this man had somehow managed to occupy a disproportionate level of your attention, and now he was implying that maybe you had occupied his too. Ok, it was time to take a leap.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t try having a conversation,” you barely breathed out, glancing down at his lips as you leaned forward slightly, almost not believing that you were actually about to do this.

Sam hesitated before he closed the remaining distance, gently pressing his lips to yours and stealing your breath from you in the process. You couldn’t move, too lost in the sensation of a first kiss. Your head felt light, and a strange tingling warmth seemed to emanate from his lips, spreading down your back and to the tips of your finger and toes. His fingers lightly came to grip your hands, bringing you back into the moment, and you moved to deepen the kiss. 

Placing your hands on his firm chest and feeling the heat rolling off him, you couldn’t tell if it were your pulse or his that was pounding beneath your fingers. Maybe it was both of yours. After months of uncertainty around him, something finally felt right. Felt good. Felt…

You jumped in surprise as his fingers moved from your hands to your sides just a bit too lightly, a bit to flutteringly, tickling you and jarring you both out of the lost moment. 

Sam chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

You smiled back, letting out a sigh, which was equal parts satisfied and frustrated. You hadn’t wanted that moment to end.

“So…” you trailed off, looking at Sam’s eyes expectantly.

“So.” He grinned back, moving his hands to your sides again, but with this time with a gentle firmness. “How about you and I go get a cup of coffee together?”

Standing in his embrace, you felt a bit giddy. “Does it have to be here?”

Several hours and several cups of coffee later, you found yourself still deep in conversation with Sam in a little café, splitting a piece of cheesecake. You and he were currently having a good laugh and marveling at the rollercoaster of day.

“Okay, so I get that you were acting on purposefully bad advice from Bucky, but I have to ask. Bucky said that he put you up to tickling me but that he had no idea where ‘Señor Tickle’ came from…” your trailed off looking at him with amusement.

Sam’s eyes closed as he smiled with embarrassment. “Oh. That. I have two nieces, and they happen to love Señor Tickle.” Fiddling with his fork, he continued, “But they’re also six, so I can see whey that tactic may not have worked for you.”

You couldn’t stop smiling as you shook your head at him, “Well, I’m glad you decided to make the introduction.”


End file.
